by Robin Caroll
“See what this godly sorrow has produced in you: what earnestness, what eagerness to clear yourselves, what indignation, what alarm, what longing, what concern, what readiness to see justice done. At every point you have proved yourselves to be innocent in this matter.”
2 CORINTHIANS 7:11
“She won’t let me take her to the emergency room.” His mother’s face was a couple of shades paler than when Hayden had picked up Riley for their date. “But I think she needs stitches.”
“Where is she?”
“The living room.”
He moved past his mother. The soft murmurs of Riley’s voice soothing as his mother followed him into the living room.
Emily lay on the couch, an ice pack wrapped inside a towel against her cheek. “I told her not to call you.”
“Shut up.” He sat beside her. “Let me see.”
“It’s nothing. I told her I’m fine.”
If that were true, she wouldn’t have come home. He gripped his hand on hers and pulled the ice pack free. Blood stained the towel a bright, bold red, but it was her face that rendered him momentarily speechless.
A gash approximately two inches long and about a fourth of an inch deep jagged down the right side of her face. It started at the top of her cheekbone and ran diagonally toward her mouth. He wasn’t a doctor, but that wound would need ten stitches, if not more.
She pressed the pack back against her wound. The pain had to be horrible, but she didn’t show it. “It’ll be fine.”
“You need stitches.”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “I don’t. It’s okay.”
So she wanted to be difficult. “How’d it happen?”
She shrugged. “Me and a friend were messing around, goofing off at my place. It’s an accident.”
Like he would accept that? “How, exactly, does your face get slashed while you’re goofing off with a friend?”
“Stop being a cop.”
“Stop being a brat.”
She glared at him, then threw her scowl behind him. “What’s she doing here?”
Hayden peeked over his shoulder. His mother and Riley had entered silently and stood by the doorway. He focused back on his sister. “That’s not important. How did you get the cut?”
Ignoring him, she continued to stare at Riley.
“Emily!”
His sister gaped at him with such loathing . . . “I told you, it was an accident.”
“Don’t try my patience any more, Em.”
Mom rushed to the end of the couch and stroked Emily’s hair. “Honey, we’re trying to help.”
“I just want to be left alone.” She pushed to her feet, swayed, then plopped back onto the couch.
Mom moved to hold her. Hayden held up a hand to stop her.
“No, you don’t. You want sympathy or empathy or maybe just attention—I can’t say for sure, but you definitely don’t want to be left alone. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come to Mom’s.”
“Hayden,” Mom whispered.
Emily’s eyes widened.
“You need something, Em. What is it? A place to crash? Someone to make you take care of yourself?”
Moisture filled her eyes, shimmering under the lamp’s glow.
“Don’t even try. Your crying stopped having an effect on me years ago when you started using the waterworks as a way of manipulation.”
And just like that, her eyes went dry and hard. “I don’t have to stay here and listen to this.” She stood, wobbling, but sturdier than a few moments ago.
He stood as well. “Then go.” He waved toward the front door. “Go ahead. No one’s stopping you.”
“Hayden!” Mom shot to her feet. “Emily is more than welcome here. This is her home.”
“No, Mom, it’s not. She moved out. This is your home and she’s here at your leisure, not the other way around. If she’s going to stay, she needs to abide by your wishes, which are for her to seek medical attention.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Isn’t that why you called me? Because she needs to go to the emergency room?”
“Well, yes.” Mom begged Emily with her eyes. “Honey, I just want you to be okay. I think you need stitches.”
“I do as well.”
Emily returned to scowling at him. “Who asked you?”
“Mom did. When she called and asked me to come immediately. To check on you.” He softened his tone. “And I came because you’re my sister and I love you. We want to help you, but you have to help us, Em.”
She ducked her head and her shoulders shook as she sobbed in silence. Real or for show? Who knew? It could be either. But at least she wasn’t as hateful as before.
“Sit down.” He helped her sit on the couch for the third time. Mom sat on her other side. “Now, tell me the truth. How did you get the cut?”
“Me and a friend really were fooling around. We had some bottoms of those old Coke bottles—the really, really thick ones. We were holding them up like glasses and laughing at how distorted everything looked through them.” The ice in the pack shifted, splitting the tense silence. “I don’t know if I moved or he did, but somehow, the edge of the broken glass slipped across my face.”
He? Every muscle in Hayden’s body went taut. Some guy was playing around with his little sister and sliced her face? “Who? That Thomas Vince fellow?” He couldn’t imagine the guy being strong enough to do damage to anyone.
Emily shook her head. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d be more concerned with the who than the truth. It wasn’t Thomas. He’d already left.”
Playing around with thick Coke bottles like glasses . . . were they making fun of Thomas?
He ground his teeth. “Either way, you need stitches.” He stood. “Come on, I’ll drive you to the emergency room. Mom and Riley can follow.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
And then it occurred to him. “Have you been drinking, Em? Taking anything?”
She gave him a dirty look, but she didn’t answer him.
“Em?”
“We had a couple of beers, no big deal. It’s not illegal.”
He ground his teeth harder. Lord, I could sure use a little help here. I’m not Emily’s father, but Mom looks to me in helping with her. I need some wisdom.
“Oh, Emily.” Mom’s frown cut deep into the lines in her face.
“See! That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. Always the same thing. Disapproval and condemnation.”
He grabbed her by the arm and helped her to her feet. “Regardless, you need stitches. I’m going to take you to the hospital.”
She jerked her arm from his grasp. “They’ll want to ask my friend questions. I don’t want him to get into any trouble. It was an accident.”
He’d have to relate to her vanity. “You have to get it looked at, Em. Do you want a big, ugly scar down your face? That’ll happen if you don’t get stitches and this gets infected. It could be really, really ugly.”
From the horrified look she wore, he’d scored.
Mom jumped to her feet. “Wait here until I bring my car around to follow y’all. I had parked it behind the shed so Bella would have room. Won’t take but a minute.” She moved faster than he’d seen in a while. Probably scared Emily would put up another argument if they didn’t get her into the car quickly.
He left his sister staring blindly into space and joined Riley across the room. “Sorry about all this.”
She smiled. “No worries.” She nodded toward the couch. “That accident sounds like it could be domestic abuse. Especially when drinking is involved.”
“Who asked you?” Emily shot off the couch and stomped toward them, her eyes glazed like some psycho.
Hayden
recognized the anger flickering in her eyes. Anger flamed by alcohol on top of medication for her bipolar disorder.
He stepped in his sister’s path. “Em, she has a valid point.”
She froze, the hatred in her look shooting at him. “Oh, so now you’re listening to her. Over your own flesh and blood?” Em paused. “Well, half of your flesh and blood. We don’t share the same father, do we, half brother?”
Well now, she’d extended her claws all the way out. Hayden’s chest tightened. It hurt enough that he’d only recently learned the man he’d idolized and loved all his life wasn’t his biological father. It hurt even more that his mother hadn’t told him until she’d had no other choice. Remington had known as well. Since both kept the secret from him, he had trouble trusting. Emily knew how much pain it caused him.
“But you, Ms. Big-Shot Reporter, you need to mind your own business and keep your opinions to yourself.” Her words were a bit slurred, as if she’d taken something and it was beginning to kick in.
Had she taken any drugs on top of drinking? On top of her prescription medication? That would explain why she didn’t seem to be overly affected by the pain from the gash.
“That’s about enough, Em. Have you—?”
Emily swayed. Her eyes rolled back in her head, then her entire body went lax. Hayden caught her just before she fell, Riley helping support her. He swooped Em into his arms. Riley rushed to the front door and swung it open for him. She ran down the steps and opened the passenger side of the car. He set Emily down, then connected the seat belt.
“Do you mind riding with Mom? Telling her what’s going on?”
“Sure. Of course.”
He shut the car door and faced Riley. “Sorry our date ended like this.” She had no idea how sorry. He wanted to get to know her better. Just being around her did strange things to him.
“Me too.” Her eyes lit.
Mom’s car rumbled in the drive behind his. “We’ll have to do it again. Without this part.” He held his breath, waiting for her response.
“Sure.”
Hayden walked around and slid in behind the steering wheel. Soon. He’d take Riley out again. Right after he figured out what to do about his sister.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Keeping her eyes closed, Riley felt around the table beside the bed for her cell. It vibrated again. She grabbed it and pressed the earpiece against her head, still buried under the covers. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Riley.”
She whipped the covers from her head and squinted at the clock. “Jeremy. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? Nothing. Not a thing.”
Then why on earth was he calling her before eight on a Monday morning? Ahh . . . Monday morning. Her article. “Getting any response to my article?” She sat upright in bed, chewing her bottom lip.
“Any response? Luv, we’ve been bombarded with calls since the switchboard opened, and our voice-mail boxes are full with messages from before we answered the phones.”
Her mouth went dry. Had to be good news . . . he’d called her luv, which he’d never done before. “People like the story?”
“They’re loving it. Eating it up. Can’t get enough.”
She smiled. Euphoria was better than any drug on the market—legal or not.
“So much so, I’d like to send a photographer over there. Take some shots of this Peggy and Jasmine and little Mikey. The house they used to live in and the trailer they live in now.”
Sending a photographer? This was big. “I’ll meet with Mrs. Wilson and ask her permission.” And set up some other angles to work for future parts of the series she hadn’t even pitched to Jeremy yet.
“You do that. I’m moving next week’s article up to the front page of the section.”
F-f-front page? Seriously? This was bigger than big. This was epic. “I’ll call her this morning.” If only she could get the prison to let her interview Armand. So far, each of her calls to Angola officials had yielded no progress. But if Jeremy was going to send a photographer . . . maybe she could use some persuasion with the warden.
“Let me know as soon as you do.” Voices muffled behind Jeremy over the connection. “I have to go now. You’re doing great, luv. I’m proud of you.”
Riley ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed, then stood and stretched. Still smiling, she looked out the window. No sign of the sun. Dark clouds clumped all across the sky. Ominous. Foreboding.
The weather didn’t matter. She could walk through a hurricane right now and not feel the wind.
She grabbed the phone and dialed Peggy’s number. She would’ve been up some time ago getting Jasmine and Mikey off to school.
One ring.
With any luck, Peggy would have some time to talk with her before or after work today. If she could get permission, Jeremy could have a photographer up here by tomorrow morning.
Second ring.
Perhaps she should go see Hayden and ask for his assistance in gaining access to Armand at the prison. He was, after all, a police commissioner. She’d try the warden one more time, and if she still didn’t get the interview request granted, she’d ask Hayden for help.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Wilson? It’s Riley Baxter.”
“Oh, hi. I haven’t seen the magazine yet. I’ll grab one at the store this morning.”
“There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. Do you have any time for us to talk today?” She held her breath and crossed her fingers.
“I’m only working until two today. Why don’t you come by the house around two thirty?”
Riley smiled. “That sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.”
She wasted no time showering and getting dressed before joining Ardy on the patio for a cup of coffee. “It’s so beautiful and peaceful out here.”
Ardy nodded. “Even with the approaching storm, I love it here.”
“How’s Emily?”
“In therapy.” Ardy set her cup on the iron table. Lightning flashed through the darkened sky. “Emily’s a good girl. She took her father’s death very hard and then got diagnosed as bipolar.”
Spoken like a mother. Riley sipped her coffee to avoid saying anything that could insult her host.
“I know most people can’t see it, but Emily has a heart of gold. She’s just a bit rough around the edges.”
That was putting it mildly. “What did the doctors say about scarring? She’s so pretty, I wouldn’t want there to be a big scar.”
Ardy smiled. “Unless you know where to look, you shouldn’t be able to see nothing more than a faint line. That’s what the doctor said.”
“That’s good.” Riley would be devastated if her face got cut like that. Sure, it sounded superficial and vain, and perhaps it was, but it was the truth. She stood and grabbed her cup. “Well, I’d better get—”
“Don’t break his heart.”
“What?” Her pulse pounded in her ears.
“I can tell Hayden really likes you.” Ardy’s eyes were full of emotion. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’m asking you not to break his heart. He’s a good man and deserves happiness.” She stared out over the bayou. “I’ve caused him quite a bit of pain this past year. I want him to be happy.”
What was she supposed to say to that? “Um, Mrs. Simpson, I really like Hayden. I have no intention of hurting him.”
“He’s struggling to regain his footing. It’s a long story, but you need to know I’m the reason he might have trust issues. Because I lied to him all his life about who his father was. The deception nearly undid him.”
“Mrs. Simpson, I don’t—”
“He worshipped my husband. Thought his dad was the best man on earth, and he was right.” Tears floated in her eyes. “I took all that
away from him. When your own mother lies to you, how can you trust anyone?”
Riley leaned over and patted Ardy’s shoulder. How was she supposed to respond? She wasn’t good with these types of situations. Maddie was the one who handled emotional things.
Ardy sniffed. “So you can see why I want him to be happy.”
“You raised a good man, Mrs. Simpson. I don’t know about his pain, but I can tell you Hayden is kind, considerate, and the most honest gentleman I’ve ever met.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Riley. You’re a sweet girl. I can see why Hayden’s taken with you.”
Riley nodded, not daring to speak. There wasn’t anything to say.
Chapter Eleven
“‘Do not pervert justice; do not show partiality to the poor or favoritism to the great, but judge your neighbor fairly.”
LEVITICUS 19:15
Electrocuted?
Hayden stared at the report Bob had handed him minutes ago with the disclaimer, “You aren’t going to believe this one.”
Evan Coleman had been electrocuted in a freak bathroom accident five months ago.
Details were even sketchier: Evan Coleman, age forty-six, divorced with three children he did not have custody of, lived alone in a second-floor apartment just outside Port Allen, in West Baton Rouge parish. Sheriff deputies were called by the apartment manager who had received reports from the tenants in the same building as Coleman’s that their electricity had gone out suddenly, as if a fuse had blown. The manager sent maintenance to replace the fuse, and power was restored. Hours later, the tenants in the unit directly below Coleman’s called to report water leaking from their ceiling.
Upon entry into Coleman’s apartment, the manager noticed a foul smell and heard water running. He entered the bathroom and found Coleman in the bathtub full of water and overflowing, the shower curtain loosely wrapped around his body, and a MP3 home station still plugged into the wall lying in the tub.
Hayden flipped the report to the next page. Coroner Lee Morrow ruled the cause of death was electrocution. The sheriff department investigators found no evidence of foul play. It was their report that Mr. Coleman was in the shower, somehow got tangled up in the shower curtain, and lost his footing. In his attempt to regain his balance, Mr. Coleman reached for the towel rack, just above the shelf holding the MP3 home station, fumbled, and knocked the electronic device into the tub with him.